


joy when you call me

by orphan_account



Series: of monsters and men [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Ashe is precious boy, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, M/M, Minor Violence, Part of it is in Claude's POV because him and Byleth are bffls, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), mentions of blood/gore, nothing too bad though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Every kill Byleth took from a former friend or student weighed on his shoulders every day. But to kill his Ashe would irrevocably break something in him. Something precious that had built up delicately during his teaching days. He would never be able to free himself from that blood on his hands.Fate could not be so cruel. Could it?
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & My Unit | Byleth, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/My Unit | Byleth
Series: of monsters and men [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616857
Comments: 15
Kudos: 72





	joy when you call me

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST FIRE EMBLEM FIC WHEEE <3  
> this fic is a result of:  
> 1\. me having played through verdant wind, panicking when i didn't see ashe on my roster post-timeskip, and then having a complete meltdown when i had to fight him at ailell  
> 2\. also me, crying with relief after persuading ashe  
> 3\. the criminal lack of same-sex romantic s-supports, especially for m!byleth
> 
> as i mentioned in tags, the perspective changes a few times throughout the fic. part of it takes place through claude's pov because I Just Wanted to. then it switches from byleth to ashe!! this is an alternate retelling of chapter 15 of the verdant wind route  
> serious spoilers for golden deer route!!! title taken from bastille's song "joy"

“Goodness, it is _hot!”_ Hilda took it upon herself to state the obvious, fanning herself futilely with her hand. “Couldn’t Judith have picked anywhere else to meet up?”

“For once, I agree with Hilda.” Lysithea placed a hand on her hip (deliberately ignoring Hilda’s squawk of “what do you mean, _for once?”)._ “This heat is unbearable!”

Raphael carelessly wiped off the sweat beading on his brow with the back of his hand. “C’mon, guys! Once we meet up with Judith’s soldiers, we can go back home and finally have a decent meal thanks to the new food supplies!”

Leonie rolled her eyes, rubbing her horse soothingly on its neck. “Food’s the only thing on your mind, even during war, huh?”

“Let’s just stay calm, everybody.” Ignatz lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Raphael is right. Once we meet up with Judith’s soldiers, we can go right back home.”

Marianne perked up, eyes widening. “Oh! I remember. There was a legend about this place…”

As Marianne launched into her short tale, Claude turned to the man by his side. Byleth didn’t even seem to be paying attention, eyes fixed on the horizon. He seemed oddly distracted, even though there was nothing but pockets of lava and volcanic rock as far as the eye could see. “Not interested in folktales, my friend?” Claude asked.

Byleth flicked his gaze over to Claude for a second, before looking back into the distance. “I read about it before. In the library.” He said shortly. “Ailell, the Valley of Torment. Created from the wrath of the goddess.” 

“Huh. So the benevolent goddess herself made this place the way it is?” Claude stretched out his arms, resting his hands on the back of his head. “I guess even gods have their temper tantrums, eh?”

Usually, such quips would draw a single huff of breath from the former professor — his way of laughing. Sometimes, Claude would be lucky enough to get a tiny smile. But Byleth’s face remained blank. “This place is near the border. To the Kingdom.” Byleth muttered, as if he hadn’t heard Claude at all. “I wonder…”

He trailed off, yet Claude knew exactly what was on Byleth’s mind. Or rather, who.

He remembered the look on Byleth’s face when all of his former students had slowly trickled back to the monastery, ecstatic after hearing that he was still alive. Ingrid had excitedly introduced her pegasus to Byleth (Byleth went so far as to bow to the creature. It’d been quite hilarious and rather adorable), Sylvain had clapped him on the back good-naturedly, even Felix had seemed relieved to see him. Some people had even abandoned the Empire: Dorothea, Ferdinand, Bernadetta, all who had buried their reservations of turning against their homeland in favor of rejoining the professor’s side. Petra had even returned from Brigid to fight with Byleth and Claude.

And yet, there had been one person who hadn’t shown up.

_“Don’t flatter yourself.” Felix huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “I’m only here because it was pointless fighting a losing battle in Faerghus.”_

_“Don’t listen to him, Professor.” Sylvain winked, jostling Byleth in a show of camaraderie. “When he heard the news, he was literally dragging me by the ear to get here as soon as possible.”_

_“ That’s a lie.” Felix hissed, but the red tips of his ears betrayed him. Bernadetta coughed into her hand, masking a giggle._

_The corner of Byleth’s mouth quirked up in a rare smile. “Nonetheless, I am grateful that you are here.”_

_“Tch. Whatever.” Felix mumbled, no doubt disarmed by Byleth’s genuine show of happiness. Even the stalwart heir of Fraldarius was not immune to the professor’s charms._

_Byleth scanned over the small crowd that had amassed around him, still smiling. “What of Ashe? Did he not arrive with you, too?”_

_The three Kingdom nobles noticeably tensed. Sylvain dropped his arm from Byleth’s back, sending a pleading gaze towards Ingrid. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “We haven’t heard from him in years.” She admitted, eyes downcast. “Last we heard, he had pledged himself under the service of House Rowe. A few months after...well.”_ After you supposedly died. _The unsaid words hung in the air, as clearly as if she’d just vocalized it._

_A furrow formed between Byleth’s eyebrows. “House Rowe?” Ah. Right. Byleth, despite having researched the major nobility of Fodlan, likely had never heard of House Rowe._

_Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “They were formerly lords of the Kingdom. But last I heard, they were —”_

_Claude decided to step in, then. Ferdinand was usually quite eloquent, but this was a topic that needed to be said straight without the usual flowery language. “They joined the Empire’s side after the coup d'état five years ago.” He finished, gaze never leaving the face of his friend. “Ashe fights for the Empire now.”_

_The smile was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. Although Byleth was difficult to read, Claude was able to pick up on subtle cues. The way Byleth’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, the way his next breath trembled in his chest._

_“W-What?” Bernadetta gasped. “B-But Ashe loves the Kingdom! W-Why would he still stay with House Rowe?_

_Dorothea had her hands to her mouth, looking stunned. “We may have to battle against him, won’t we?” She said. Her voice was filled with a weary, endless sorrow. The former Golden Deer shifted uncomfortably, the previously joyful mood all but destroyed._

_“I must admit, it does not sit well with me either.” Ferdinand frowned, hands on his hips. “Ashe, fighting for the Empire? It sounds preposterous, and yet...Why?”_

_Claude never stopped watching Byleth, who seemed to be in another world entirely. “For Lonato.” He surmised. “He’s doing it for Lonato.”_

_A hush fell over the crowd once more, as the realization sunk in. Understanding Ashe’s motives, yet lamenting why it had to come to this._

_“He’s right.” Byleth said. Some people startled, clearly not having expected him to say anything. “For him, he is fulfilling his lifelong wish. Becoming a knight and doing Lonato proud. He is simply doing what he believes to be right. Now, then. Please excuse me.”_

_And with that, he swept past the throng and made a beeline straight for his personal quarters. Everyone watched him go, each with varying degrees of pity and sorrow. Felix was scowling at the ground, fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword. Sylvain and Ingrid exchanged a sad look, a silent conversation happening between them. Claude could probably decipher it, if he cared to._

_Everyone knew that Byleth cared for all of his students, but he had a special soft spot for Ashe (who didn’t, really?). He’d been one of the first to transfer over to the Golden Deer, prattling about how excited he was to finally learn firsthand from his favorite professor. Sweet, earnest Ashe, who had happily volunteered to help Byleth when it was the latter’s turn for cooking duty. Ashe, for whom Byleth had planted a small patch of violets in the greenhouse. Ashe, who frequently accompanied Byleth on his trips to the marketplace._

_The enthusiastic, cheerful Ashe and their seemingly apathetic teacher. Claude noted, with amusement, that Ashe’s puppylike demeanor seemed exacerbated in the company of Byleth. Vice versa, Byleth’s chilly demeanor seemed to melt quite a bit in Ashe’s radiant presence._

_They adored each other. It had never been a question. Claude had always known that Ashe developed a massive crush on Teach over the course of their academy days. Before Edelgard. Before Teach...fell asleep._

_He remembered Ashe’s outstretched hand towards the gaping maw through which Byleth had fallen. He’d refused to be tugged away by Felix, who’d been snarling through his own choked-back sobs to get a move on, to hurry and evacuate with the rest of the students._

_Claude remembered Ashe’s terrible, heartbroken screaming. A desperate reply to Byleth’s harrowing shout that had faded as he fell._

After that, everyone had gone their separate ways. A war had begun, after all. Ashe had refused to meet anyone’s eye, doling out quick goodbyes before disappearing alongside the other Kingdom natives. 

Claude hadn’t seen him since. 

It didn’t matter anyway, he noted bitterly. Ashe was an enemy now. _Former classmate turned enemy._ It was a recurring theme he was starting to get sick of. He just hoped that they’d never have to face the sniper in battle. Cutting down familiar faces on the battlefield, faces he used to exchange friendly words and share meals with, was taxing enough. But to face _Ashe_? 

“Hey, Claude!” Cyril lifted his head, eyes squinting against the burning sunlight. “Is that ‘em?”

All eyes followed Cyril’s pointed finger towards the distant cliffs. Backlit by the red sun, an army had emerged at the cliff’s tip, a banner waving high above them. An icy fist closed around Claude’s heart as he recognized the symbol on the banner.

“No,” He said, swearing profusely in his mind. “That’s the flag of House Rowe. They’ve come to cut us off.” Claude didn’t believe in jinxing, but seriously. _Talk about terrible, terrible coincidences._

“C-Cut us off?” Bernadetta’s hands began shaking wildly, her bow knocking against his hip in a rapid rhythm. “A-As in, an ambush? Oh goddess, I-I’m not ready to fight again so soon!” 

Petra drew her sound, a long and wicked thing forged from Brigid gold. “You must be having courage, Bernadetta!” She encouraged, assuming an offensive stance. “Nothing will be stopping us from meeting the reinforcements. We must be getting the victory!”

With the Brigid princess’ optimism, the troops began to settle down from their momentary panic. Claude, for not the first time and certainly not the last, was grateful that Petra was on their side. He just hoped that she was right, that they would emerge victorious.

Because he saw the familiar figure standing beside the Gray Lion himself, bow gleaming in his hands. He heard Ingrid’s sharp intake of breath when she, too, recognized him. Felix’s soft swearing. Sylvain’s barely-contained groan.

And Byleth. Byleth, whose cool facade cracked upon seeing —  
“ _Ashe.”_ Byleth whispered hoarsely. 

Claude knew this part. This routine that he had to witness every time they’d fought after Byleth had returned to them. 

Byleth would see a student he knew. Used to teach, even. The momentary devastation. The pause where he’d close his eyes, and Claude knew what Byleth would think: _They are an enemy now. I must kill them._ Byleth would repeat these words. Forced himself to internalize them. Accept them.

Then, _nothing_. The face of who they called the Ashen Demon would emerge, and everything would be a blur until the battle ended. Then, Byleth would slip away, uncaring of his own wounds, and find his peace in the comfort of privacy. Claude left him alone during these times. He knew whatever he could try to say wouldn’t amount to anything.

This was infinitely worse by a long shot. 

Every kill Byleth took from a former friend or student weighed on his shoulders every day. But to kill his Ashe would irrevocably break something in him. Something precious that had built up delicately during his teaching days. He would never be able to free himself from that blood on his hands.

Fate could not be so cruel. Could it?

“Teach,” Claude said carefully, placing a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Say the word, and I’ll make absolutely sure you won’t have to face him.” Ashe was a talented sniper and a proficient close-range combatant; no doubt the last few years had only served to hone his skills. Taking him down wouldn’t be easy, but they had to. _If only so Teach won’t have to carry that guilt._

Byleth never took his eyes off of the distant figure. His eyes began to ice over, steel replacing anguish. “I suppose it would be pointless to try and talk to him.” He said lowly. The void beneath his words was unending.

Claude gave his shoulder a small squeeze and braced himself for his next words. “He undoubtedly knows you’re alive. Have been alive. They had a spy amongst us, after all. If he didn’t return then, he is definitely past the point of no return now.” Claude knew his words were cutting, knew it wasn’t like him to be so direct, but Byleth needed it.

He was right. At that, Byleth squared his shoulders, drawing the Sword of the Creator from its sheath. The white, bone-like surface of the blade glowed red in Byleth’s hands. “I will face him.” He said, tone leaving no room for argument. “No one else.”

Claude surveyed his friend, swallowing his own sorrow. _This situation shouldn’t even be happening. We shouldn’t have to be fighting our old classmates, our old friends. Teach doesn’t deserve to suffer more than he already has._

_Why, Ashe? Why didn’t you just come back?_

He sighed. _I’m sorry. But this is war._

Claude swung himself back into the saddle of his wyvern, raising Failnaught to the sky. His voice rang out across the scorched plains. “Prepare yourselves for battle! Judith and the soldiers of House Daphnel await on the other side! Let’s secure the victory!”

The Alliance soldiers roared in agreement, the banner with the Crest of Flames swiftly rising above the ranks. 

Byleth did not make a sound. 

* * *

  
  


The Professor was alive. 

A ghost of the past stood there on the battlefield, looking the same as he had the day he’d disappeared. Right down to his black gloves and the Hero’s Relic in his hands. 

Ashe knew he’d been alive for a while, now. When he’d first heard word of “the one who wields the Sword of the Creator” being spotted back at Garreg Mach, Ashe hadn’t allowed himself to believe it. There was absolutely no way. The spy was clearly mistaken.

Then he’d heard of Duke Riegan’s (goddess, hearing Claude be referred to so _nobly_ was still strange to Ashe’s ears) closest confidante and battle tactician, a man with mint hair and green eyes with unparalleled swordsmanship. Ashe knew then that the spy was not insane or misinformative. 

Somehow, against all odds, the Professor lived.

_Rocks tumbling, the earth itself gave way beneath his feet. Startled shouts rose from the students as the Professor lost his footing, as the darkness of the chasm rose up to meet him, eager to wink out the blinding light._

_And Ashe could only scream, scream, scream, absolutely_ **_useless_ ** _, hand reaching out fruitlessly, too late too late too late —_

He hadn’t been able to save him. The Professor had _died._

Yet looking down from the top of the cliff, Ashe saw the proof right before his eyes. The Professor was alive. 

And behind the Professor — Bernadetta, Ferdinand, Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, Dorothea, they — they were all alive. Alive, and fighting alongside the Professor. 

Everyone had returned. Except him. It was a cold blow of reality that brought him back to his senses. _We are in the middle of a war._

Ashe’s hands trembled, and he gripped his bow more tightly to mask his internal turmoil. “Lord Gwendal.” He said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “We await your orders.”

The Gray Lion scoffed derisively. “Look at them,” he growled, ignoring Ashe entirely. “Children, the lot of them. It will take more than that measly army to defeat me.”

 _They are_ not _children._ Ashe bit the words back. He could not afford to have such thoughts. He was their enemy, after all. 

“Boy,” Gwendal said, tone threatening. “I know your history with these people. You best not be having second thoughts. I have no room for traitorous minds.”

Ashe desperately pushed any remaining thoughts to the back of his mind. “Don’t worry, Lord Gwendal.” He said resolutely. “I am loyal to House Rowe. I will fight to my last breath.”

He knew these people. He’d fought with them, learned with them. Knew some of their weaknesses and strengths. Would he truly have to use this knowledge now? All to kill them?

And the Professor —

No. _No._ It didn’t matter. It _couldn’t._

_Like a true knight, I will fight. For my brother and sister. For Lonato._

_Even if it means killing the Professor._

The idea was laughable. He knew he was no match for the Professor, his inhuman skill with the weapon in his hands. If Ashe ended up facing the Professor, it wouldn’t be much of a match at all. He’d be dead within minutes.

But he’d go down fighting. 

Ashe took a deep breath. It felt like an eternity capsulated within a few seconds before Lord Gwendal finally loosed a battle cry.

Ashe assumed his stance, arrow nocked, and picked out his first target. He drew his arm back in a straight line, heart beating thunderously against his chest —

And he let the arrow fly. 

* * *

The battle was ugly and gruesome. There was just no other way around it. Where the blood began and the flames ended, no one knew. The landscape painted a red, red picture. 

The thought was so very Ignatz, Byleth noted absentmindedly. He had half a mind to pitch the idea, too, had Ignatz not been so focused on shooting down foes from atop his horse. 

Besides Ignatz, everyone else seemed to be holding up well, too. Felix was covering Bernadetta’s back as the sniper rained a volley of arrows into the enemy flanks. Ingrid and Sylvain wove through the skies, on their pegasus and wyvern respectively, swooping down to pick off enemy archers. Petra danced along the front lines, striking like a viper as Dorothea countered enemy mages with crackling thunder. Ferdinand and Leonie charged through on their steeds, lances like flashes of quicksilver. Marianne had picked up Hilda on her own horse, waving a quick healing spell over the gash on her arm. Raphael was a whirlwind of fists and axes as usual. Lorenz and Lysithea advanced slowly, destructive black magic billowing in their wake. And Claude hovered on his wyvern, engaged in a fierce midair ranged battle with —

Ah.

Ashe stood high on his vantage point, nimbly dodging all of Claude’s shots. He returned with his own counterattacks, forcing Claude to maintain his distance. He’d improved so much, to the point that he could go toe-to-toe with _Claude_ in a battle of the bows.

A soldier charged at Byleth with his axe raised. Without even looking, Byleth sliced the man’s chest open. The body hit the ground with a thud.

Byleth’s lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile. His students had all grown so much. 

Some things didn’t change, though. Like how Claude had blatantly ignored Byleth’s earlier request and took it upon himself to take out Ashe. _Making his own rules. As always._

Byleth knew Claude did it out of care, but he would not let it pass.

He began cutting his own bloody path towards that small hill. Nothing would stop him from reaching that hill. Not the arrow that lodged itself into his shoulder. Not the sword that managed to slice across his cheek. He barely felt them, anyway.

He’d lost five years.

He would not lose another moment.

Claude and Ashe continued their little duel, arrows flying like a rain of death. Claude began shouting something that Byleth couldn’t pick up over the chaos of battle. Whatever he said, it made Ashe tense and grimace and draw his arrows with a renewed vigor.

Byleth had to get to him. Had to see him face-to-face, had to talk to him, at least _one last time —_

A swinging lance nearly lopped his head off, forcing Byleth to stop and take a step back.

Lord Gwendal, an imposing figure on top of his heavily armored horse, glared down at him as if surveying a particularly irksome rodent. “I’ve heard rumors of you, demon.” He said gruffly. “Another unworthy competitor, here to —”

Byleth mostly tuned him out, eyes seeking out Ashe again. He didn’t have time for this. 

It seemed Sothis herself answered his prayers, for a ferocious yell drew Gwendal’s attention away from him. There was a flash of gold, then Gwendal barely managed to parry an expertly-timed strike. The attacker was a woman, and she was already preparing another attack with her sword. Byleth immediately recognized her, from an encounter not so long ago (in his perspective, anyway).

“Long time no see, professor!” Judith greeted, as if she hadn’t just challenged the Gray Lion himself to a fight. “Glad to see that I made it not a moment too late.”

As if on cue, a wave of fresh soldiers rushed into the battlefield, the banner of House Daphnel signifying their arrival. A surge of palpable relief swept through the army as the new soldiers joined the fray.

“Judith! You always have perfect timing, don’t you?” Claude called out with a wink, ducking his head as a javelin soared past where his neck had been moments ago. 

“A talent of mine, you could say. Now don’t get yourself killed, boy!” Judith yelled back, as Gwendal finally recovered from his initial shock. 

“Finally, a worthy opponent!” He boomed, lance at the ready. Byleth took that as his cue to duck away as soon as possible, making a note to thank Judith later. Ashe was so close, he was right there, he had to _see him —_

One of Claude’s arrows knocked the bow clean out of Ashe’s hands. Seeing the perfect opening, Claude unsheathed the axe on his back as his wyvern tucked her wings in close and dove straight for Ashe, defenseless and vulnerable.

Fear like he’d never felt before gripped at Byleth’s unbeating heart.

Godlike strength burst through his body, and his legs ran faster, impossibly fast, the narrowing distance an ironic parallel to Claude’s own rapid trajectory. Ashe’s eyes seemed faraway as the axe swung for his head —  
And met the edge of the unyielding Sword of the Creator.

Byleth held Claude’s axe at bay, arms shaking slightly with the effort. Claude’s strength was with his bow, but his axe skills had shaped up considerably. It was a challenge holding him back, but not impossible.

Something flashed across Claude’s eyes, a mix of irritation and amusement and relief all at once. He quickly backed off, his wyvern circling back around as he turned to face Byleth. “Can’t blame me for trying.” He said, slinging his axe back onto his back.

Byleth huffed, lowering his sword. “You’ve gotten much stronger. I believe this is the first time I have been on the receiving end of your axe.” Despite the terror he’d experienced for Ashe’s life just seconds ago, he couldn’t muster any indignation towards Claude. He knew why he’d done it.

Claude grinned, a cut of white in the endless red. “Of course. The leader of the Alliance has to be well-versed in many things, right? Oh, and sorry about that, Ashe. You know how it is.”

Byleth looked over his shoulder to where Ashe was standing, mouth hanging slightly ajar. _He’s my height now._ Byleth thought stupidly. Ashe didn’t seem to have anything to say back.

Claude shrugged as he pulled Failnaught from its sheath. “Do what you gotta do, Teach.” His eyes slid back to Ashe, gaze contemplative. He pulled on the reins, and he flew away to join the main fight again.

Byleth turned fully now to face Ashe, both at a loss of what to say. _You’ve grown so much._ Byleth thought fondly. Indeed, not just in height, but in stature as well. Even the way he carried himself was different, little trace of the scrawny boy he used to be. A true knight, through and through.

“Professor. It really is you.” Ashe breathed. He also seemed bewildered at the fact that he no longer had to look up to meet Byleth’s eyes. They were equals now, standing on the same hill. “How are you…?”

“It is a strange story. You may not believe me.” Byleth shrugged, the tip of his sword dragging in the dirt. He could almost hear Sothis chiding him for _improper weapon maintenance!,_ but he could care less at the moment. Besides, the Sword of the Creator had seen worse days. “You are...so grown now. You held yourself beautifully against Claude. I’m so proud of you.”

Praise always seemed to come easy around Ashe, who never failed to blush. Even now, red tinged his cheeks and nose cutely. “I…” His face hardened, fists clenched at his sides. “Why did you do that?” _Why didn’t you let Claude kill me?_

The battle around them seemed to fade to a din, until it was only the two of them atop the blood-stained hill. 

Byleth clutched the hilt of his sword, as if the feeling itself would keep him grounded in the moment forever. As long as possible, before the inevitable. “I wanted to see you again.” He said simply. 

If anything, the blush on Ashe’s face only intensified. _I despise the color red, especially now. But Ashe always makes it look so pretty._ Ashe took a stabilizing breath. “Professor. You know I have to fight you.”

Byleth stared.

Ashe took a deep breath, bending down to retrieve his fallen bow. “I don’t want to. But I have to. You know that, right?”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ Are you truly asking me this?”

Byleth blinked. “Claude defeated you. Why do we have to fight?”

“He did not defeat me. I’m still standing, aren’t I?”Ashe reached for an arrow from his quiver. Byleth simply watched him, face blank. “It’s my duty to fight you, Professor. I —”

“Ashe.” Byleth interrupted. “The violets are still growing in the greenhouse.”

His fingers stilled over his arrow.

“I kept a store of angelica tea in the pantry. Mint, too.” Byleth continued. His voice, as always, lacked inflection. But there was something Ashe had never heard before in his tone. “The peaches are doing well, too. I wanted to make peach sorbet. I wanted to do many things that I knew you like, until I remembered that you were not there.”

 _Stop._ The small voice in the back of Ashe’s mind begged. _Please stop. Don’t try to convince me. I’ve already chosen my path._

“I understand why you did not come back with the others.” Byleth said quietly, but he might as well have been shouting it at the top of his lungs. “I tried to come to terms with the fact that, if need be, I would have to kill you.”

Ashe watched, stunned, as Byleth sheathed his sword back at his hip. “But now that I am here, I realize I cannot.” He whispered. He took another step forward. Ashe was frozen in his spot.

“You have to.” Ashe’s voice was tremulous.

“I will not.” Byleth said firmly, and extended his hand. A clear invitation. “Fight with us, Ashe. Fight to stop this endless cycle of violence. For a peaceful, united Fodlan. Come with me. _Please._ ” His voice nearly broke on the last syllable. 

Suddenly, Ashe was no longer in the battlefield. He was back at the academy, still a young naive boy with hopeless ideals and dreams. 

_He was at the training grounds, practicing his lance work with Byleth in one of their one-on-one lessons. “I’m no Ingrid or Dimitri.” Ashe said bashfully, wielding his weapon awkwardly. “I’ve only ever known the bow. From what Christophe, Lonato’s son, taught me”_

_Byleth hummed, twirling the lance effortlessly in his hands. “You don’t need to be Ingrid or Dimitri.” He said. “Just be you. And improve yourself. That is all you need.”_

_Ashe beamed. “You’re right as always, Professor. All right, let’s do this!”_

_Byleth nodded, and with that, they began._

_The battle was over in less than two minutes. Ashe had no grace or fluidity with the polearm, and ended up stumbling over himself when he attempted to jab at Byleth. The professor took the opportunity to sweep Ashe’s legs out from under him, sending him sprawling onto the dirt floor._

_Ashe landed on his back with a gasp, the wind knocked out of him momentarily. “Sorry, Professor! I-I was too slow. Too clumsy.” He stammered, humiliated by how inept he really was._

_Byleth let the tip of his lance drag a line in the sand as he approached Ashe’s fallen form. “It is your first time fighting this way. I do not expect you to be perfect right away.” He tilted his head down at Ashe. “Would you like to try again?”_

_Ashe stared up at him. Byleth was backlit by the setting sun, setting his face aglow in an ethereal halo of colors. It felt like one of those moments from a novel, of the lowly commoner and the brave hero. The beautiful, patient, compassionate hero._

_His heart skipped a beat in his chest._

_“Ashe?”_

_He startled back to reality, feeling the betraying blush creep onto his cheeks. “Right! Sorry, yes. Please teach me, Professor!”_

_There was something like a hint of a smile on Byleth’s lips as he extended his arm, hand splayed for Ashe to take._

Ashe stared at the hand being offered to him, nearly breathless at the implications. How similar, yet different. The hero emerging from the grave, fighting alongside his companions for a better world. A better Fodlan. The lowly commoner, fighting for the wrong side of the war and trying not to regret it every moment of every day.

But this wasn’t a novel. This wasn’t the training grounds. He was no longer a student, knocked down in clear defeat. He stood face-to-face with Byleth, on equal footing, as enemies.

But Byleth still reached for him. _Begged_ for him.

_Ashe smiled brightly up at Byleth, almost shyly putting his hand in Byleth’s. The gloved hand gripped his own bare one tightly, warmly, as Byleth pulled him back to this feet._

_And then Byleth let go._

“Don’t disappear again.” Ashe murmured. “Please.”

Something like devastation shone in Byleth’s eyes. “Never again.” He promised.

And for the first time in a very long time, Ashe smiled again. “I’ll hold you to that, Professor.” He said, before taking Byleth’s hand once more with the intention of never letting go again.

* * *

“Glad to see you back on our side, Ashey!” Claude exclaimed, slinging an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “I gotta say, you really gave me a good fight back there. And I thought _my_ bow skills were impressive.”

Ashe chuckled, waving off the compliment. “Ah, no, you easily had me beat, Claude. I’m so sorry for how foolish I was. I’m very glad to fight by your side now.”

“Oh, Ashe!” Claude stepped out of the way as Ingrid threw her arms around Ashe’s neck.

“We’re so glad, too. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to fight you.”

Sylvain ruffled Ashe’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “We Kingdom folk have to stick together, yeah? Don’t go changing your mind again.”

Felix crossed his arms, meeting Ashe’s eyes with his own piercing ones. “You made the professor worry about you every day.” Ashe flinched at this knowledge, but nodded. Felix huffed, mouth twisting. “I hope you can make it up.”

Ingrid finally released Ashe from her crushing hug. “I will.” Ashe said, nodding resolutely. “Again, I am so terribly sorry. But I believe in what the professor and Claude are trying to do. I’m...I’m with you all until the end!”

“Hear, hear!” Hilda cheered, jostling a weary-looking Marianne’s shoulder excitedly.

Byleth finally returned from surveying the bodies littering the battlefield. “We sustained minor losses.” He reported. “I will have the exact numbers for you by tonight, Claude. But it was a total victory. House Rowe will no longer be a problem for us.”

Ashe peered over Byleth’s shoulder to see the silhouette of Gwendal’s body, half-crushed by the corpse of his steed. Despite having received little kindness from the lord, Ashe still mourned his death. Gwendal had been a great knight and a good man. He lived and died valiantly, and Ashe would forever be grateful to him.

But now…

Byleth turned to face Ashe, and a beautiful smile lit up his face. Everyone seemed dazzled by the sight, backing off slightly to let the two have their space. “Ashe. There is something I should have done long ago. But because you were my student and I was your teacher, such behavior would have possibly been improper.”

Nearby, Dorothea squealed behind her hands. Ashe could feel his entire body heating up, the reasons totally unrelated to their current environment. “Yes, professor?”

Byleth sheathed his bloody sword, and in a few short steps had crossed the distance between them. “May I have your hand?”

Ingrid was jabbing Sylvain in the ribs excitedly (“Ow, ow, geez, i get it, Ingrid!”). Ashe could not have been more embarrassingly red. “Y-You may.” He stammered, extended his hand as if to have it inspected.

Byleth peeled off his own left glove, revealing a shining silver ring on his ring finger. Ashe gaped as Byleth removed the ring and slid it onto Ashe’s own finger.

He was positively, absolutely about to die from a heart attack.

“A promise.” Byleth said, placing his hand over Ashe’s. “That I will never leave your side.” His voice lowered. “In truth, my father had given me this ring. It was the ring he had given to my mother. He told me to give this ring to someone who I — who I loved as much as he did her.” 

Ashe was breathless.

Goddess, he’d nearly forgotten this feeling, this — this overwhelming _joy,_ this pure and unadulterated love he had for the man. The pain of heartbreak, of losing the one person most important to him down the canyon, all faded at the sight of the ring. 

He was so in love with Byleth. More than words could describe.

He’d envisioned a similar moment to this many times. Had rehearsed the words he’d say, dashing and chivalrous. It all left his head the moment Byleth looked up at him with that small smile that could enrapture the world.

Ashe intertwined their fingers, bringing their palms flush, and did the only thing he could think of: He tugged Byleth closer with their joined hands and captured his lips with his own.

The others seemed millions of miles away, but distantly he could hear Hilda screaming (or was that Flayn?) and a lot of general hollering and whooping. The kiss was short, sweet, a simple press of the lips, but it was everything Ashe had dreamed of and more.

_The hero swept his lover into his arms, and with the long-awaited kiss sealed their promise of forever, with the radiant sun as their witness. “You are my brightest dream.” The hero murmured tenderly._

When they separated, Byleth still hadn’t stopped smiling. “I suppose you have been waiting a very long time to do that.”

Ashe chuckled, almost a wheeze, burying his face into the crook of Byleth’s neck. He smelled of pine and steel. “If I’m being honest, I’m incredibly embarrassed right now.”

“Don’t be.” Byleth said, voice rumbling in his chest. “Only the entirety of the Alliance army saw us, anyway.”

This only caused Ashe to flush harder, drawing a huff of laughter from his Byleth. "Thank you," He whispered. "For saving me."

Byleth clutched him tighter to his chest. 

On the sidelines, next to a nearly hysterical Lysithea, Claude only watched and smirked. _I knew Teach would be able to convince him._

“Hey, Ignatz.” He placed his hands behind his head, turning to face the bow knight.

“Yes, Claude?” Ignatz asked, puzzled.

“You should paint this moment. Title it, _Claude von Riegan Saw This Coming for Years.”_

**Author's Note:**

> ashe is the most Precious Boy <333  
> i hope you all enjoyed this!! ;; im planning to make a mini-series of drabbles for m!byleth and the other lovely men of fe3h, because we! deserve! more! bisexual! mens!!! also possibly a miniseries for f!byleth  
> next up is most likely felix. thanks so much for reading!!


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